RAMBLINGS OF A GIRL THAT HAS SEEN THE REAL PERSEPOLIS

Tonight I saw the film Persepolis.  If you don't already know what it's all about - it's basically the story of an Iranian girl that leaves her family behind in Iran for a chance at freedom in Europe - all on her own.

It made me really sad, to once again be struck in the face with the reality that I was the lucky one.

I was the child that happened to be born in America, simply because my parents wished to further their education with a master's degree.

I was the lucky one, that somehow, someway, was born at the right time - while the Shah of Iran battled cancer and sought treatment in NY, I was born.

I was the lucky one, with parents that decided to take a stab at a life of enormous uncertainty in a foreign country, all on their own, to give me the chance at freedom.

I was the lucky one, to have not endured the deep sorrow and pain that faces my family today, living in the shadows of a corrupt government, amidst a group of people that no longer can trust one another.

I am the lucky one. I am the girl that has a chance to do whatever she wishes to do in life.

I have the right to wear whatever I want [for some reason, I have just found it ironic that I choose to wear black and white stripes - the color of a prisoner's uniform].

I have the right to say what I want [it hasn't landed me in jail....yet].

I have the right to listen to the music I want...to dance in a club...to dance in public...to act like a blithering drunken idiot without fear of being clubbed in the head or whipped for my Western decadence.

I have the right to be educated. To be independent. To travel alone. To live alone and paint my toes in the late hours of the night.

I have the right to have relationships with men without the need to be married.

I have the right to paint my face [although I choose not to, even though my mom was a make-up artist].

I have the right to tell the world the way I live and the way I think and the way I speak.

But, as Marjana Satrapi so poignantly points out - Freedom Has a Price.

I, Sheima Hassanlou, have the right to live alone. Apart from the rest of my family, clear on the other side of the world. I have the right to not see my cousins grow up. I have the right to not share stories with my grandparents over tea. I have the right to not be a part of my family's lives...

Freedom Has a Price.

And I pay the price every single day of my life.

To my family all over this huge world, I am thinking of you. I may not show it. I may not know how to say it. But I think of you. All of you.

With soooo much love,
[sheima]